When the district announced the plan to close the Montessori program at my school, I must admit to feeling sad, mad, and confused—all at the same time. To make matters worse, we were the last school they told. I found out from a friend who works at another school—who called to find out how I was doing with the news. “
What news?” I asked, all innocent-like. The next afternoon, a woman from North Carolina, with a plane ticket out of town that evening, arrived at our school to explain the district’s plan to us. Like a tossed salad, suddenly we are all up in the air, and I have visions of soggy pieces of lettuce splatting onto the table and cherry tomatoes rolling off into a corner of the floor.
It may be hard for those who don’t do what we do to understand, but a Montessori school is all about community. Each child stays in our classroom for three years. Our class has memory and tradition and history. Older children tell younger friends what they have to look forward to in Room 28. Not only that, but I now teach the third siblings from some of my families. We’ve built relationships and
trust. That evening, after my kind friend called (and was then forced into the uncomfortable position of telling me “the news” herself), one of my first thoughts was, “
I know about community-building traditions, but I don’t know any community-ending, goodbye rituals.”
The Montessori program in our school began in 1982. To think about ending what we’ve built here and starting over is harder than I can explain. To think about not working with Mrs. D (who has learned to read my mind and somehow intuit even my unconscious thoughts and plans), to ponder not having the privilege of watching some of our first graders grow into responsible and capable third graders, to consider the children who have graduated and will no longer have a place where they can return to visit us, to think about the years of myself that I’ve invested in this place, in these people, in this community—it’s all too sad to really contemplate very long at all. Mrs. D and I take turns getting teary-eyed. The children are a little out-of-sorts, as change and the prospect of an unknown will often do. We are all mourning the end of something rare and good.
When spring finally arrived, after our long, uncharacteristically cold winter, my thoughts turned to
our garden, but I did not buy new plants. “
What's the point in investing in a garden we must leave behind?” I thought sadly (and, if I am honest, a little
Grinch-grouchily).
Then, as we watched a 3-6 teacher giving a “parts of the flower” lesson with an
amaryllis blooming in our garden, a second grader quietly and thoughtfully said to me, “
Ms. S, I’ve been thinking I might like to come up to the school in the summer and plant some sunflower seeds so that there’s something beautiful to remember me by.” Wow! More powerful than if someone had slapped my face and shouted,
"Snap out of it!" My thinking about this has been all wrong, and it took an eight-year-old boy to shake me from my funk. Once again, I am in awe of the
wisdom and
insight these young people bring to my life. But, of course! Leave behind something beautiful--like
Lady Bird Johnson or
Miss Rumphius.
Mrs. C, who is wiser and more gracious than I, knew this without the help of a child. When she left our school, she planted
roses—and They Are
GLORIOUS this spring! Every time I see them, I smile and think of her.
Yes, we will need to leave behind “something beautiful to remember us by.”
Point of information: The district plans to apply for a Magnet Schools Improvement Grant. The idea is to eventually expand two school-within-a-school Montessori programs to all-Montessori campuses. Ultimately, this will create more Montessori classrooms in the district and (in addition to an existing all-Montessori campus) will result in three all-Montessori campuses. Done thoughtfully and with intention, this will be a good thing.
Maybe, instead of a tossed salad, we are a dandelion—seeds scattered in the wind to land and bloom somewhere new. I hope so!
(Note: Due to the iron, this project is more adult-intensive than I like, but I discovered that it works best to leave the iron in place on the fabric for a minute or two and then return to relocate the iron. Though, you'll need Mrs. D around to remind you to move the iron to a new spot!)
